


FIC: The Consequences of Attraction

by jagnikjen



Series: The Attraction Series [2]
Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-30
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 12:36:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 17,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1132727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jagnikjen/pseuds/jagnikjen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Queen Eleanor finds herself in a situation she would never have thought possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. FIC: The Consequences of Attraction, Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, it can really happen.

“Are you all right, Your Majesty?” asked the young chamber maid, Blanche, leaning over Eleanor's bedside to peer at her.

Eleanor groaned and rolled over to the edge of her bed. “Fetch the wash basin...”

“Yes, my lady,” said Blanche, hurrying to grab the large ceramic bowl on the side table.

As soon as Blanche set it on the stone floor, Eleanor emptied the contents of her stomach into it, little as it was. “Get my physician,” she moaned and kicked off the bed clothes, feeling warm again.

“Yes, my lady,” said the maid with a quick curtsy before rushing from the room.

Eleanor hung over the side of her bed, her stomach churning. It must have been something she ate. What had she eaten? Was anyone else feeling this awful?

A short time later, there was a knock on her chamber door.

“Come in,” she called weakly. Her mouth tasted rancid and a sheen of moisture covered her forehead. She felt cold and hot at the same time.

The door creaked open and Doctor Henri Boucher trundled to the bed and sat down by her feet. “Now, Your Majesty, what is it that ails you?”

Eleanor swallowed back a groan along with the contents of her stomach and rolled onto her back. She sent him a quelling look. Had Henri not been her cousin and personal physician for thirty years it might have served its purpose. “If I knew that, you old codger, you would not be here.”

Henri chuckled. “Quite so, my queen. What are your symptoms?”

“Nausea,” she gasped, rolling quickly toward the side of the bed and retching once more.

“So I see. What else?”

“Water, please.”

“Wa—?” His brow wrinkled. “What? Oh. Yes, of course, of course.”

The old oaf wobbled to his feet and shuffled across the large room and fetched a goblet of water. He shuffled back and held out the jewel-encrusted cup and remained standing by the bed.

Eleanor struggled to a semi-sitting position and took the cup, sipping gratefully.

“Now, then,” said Henri, “when was the last time you had your courses?”

“I'm fifty-seven years old, you bugger, it's been quite some time since I bled.”

“Months or years?” he asked with a shrug and a grin. “Are your breasts tender?”

“I beg your pardon?” she huffed. Why on earth would her breasts be tender? There was only one primary reason for any woman's breast to be tender.

Eleanor stilled suddenly, her stomach sinking, roiling, threatening to return what was left, if anything, of its contents.

Oh, no.

Oh, dear...

They were tender. She hadn't thought about it since, but she'd noticed it on the boat from Ireland to France and dismissed it. It hadn't been very noticeable then. She'd just ascribed it to the quirks of an old body. But as she contemplated it, she realized it had continued. One morning last week she'd winced when she'd donned a rather snug-fitting gown. And when she'd leaned into the table during supper the other evening, she'd jerked back in surprise at the mild discomfort.

Oh, mercy.

But, surely, at her age...it wasn't possible.

“I can't be with child. I am fifty-seven years old,” she said through gritted teeth, swallowing back a new wave of nausea.

He shrugged again. “Have you had...ah...intimate relations in the last two or three months?”

“What?” Indignation rolled through her. How dare he? Well, at least he'd had the grace to stumble over that question. Otherwise she might have to have him banished for such boldness, doctor or no.

“I-it's a simple question, Majesty,” he said, a little more cautious.

Her thoughts flew immediately to John and their night together. It had been ten weeks ago. Tears filled her eyes, her throat tightened and she choked back a sob. How could she be with child at her age? The thought both thrilled her and frightened her at the same time. How was she to explain when she had no husband?

Well, she'd lost almost as many babes as she'd delivered so she would worry about it when it needed worrying about. Although the thought of losing this child saddened her more than she expected and she wondered why. She looked over at Henri and asked, “Why did you jump straight to pregnancy?”

“The glow, of course, my lady. Despite your current pallor, there is a glow about you that can mean only one thing.”

Damn. “Thank you, Henri, you may go.”

He bowed shakily and doddered from her chamber.

“Oh, and you are sworn to secrecy, do you hear me?” she called after him.

He raised an arm in acknowledgment as he disappeared out the door. “Yes, my lady.”

Glowing, indeed. What rubbish. But she had ample padding to conceal her condition for  some time, and if she carried the child to term, she could hide her rounding belly beneath her royal robes. Eleanor placed her hands on her stomach. Cautious happiness bloomed within her.

She carried a life. A life created with a man she had known only a day at the time of their coupling, but felt a great affection for. A life created during unusual circumstances. A life created with a man whom she never expected to see again, but of whom she'd thought about a great deal in the last two and half months.

She wanted this babe and she would do everything in her power to see him or her born. She would retire from public life as much as possible and take it as easy as she could.

“Well, baby,” she said, closing her eyes, “I find myself in the family way again after fourteen years. And truth be told, of all the babies I've ever carried, I find that I want you more than I've ever wanted any other.”

Tears trickled down her temples and into her hair. Now, how and what would she tell John?


	2. FIC: The Consequences of Attraction, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John receives a missive from the queen. I wonder what it says...

John sniffed the contents of the bowl Much handed him. It smelled pretty good. And not like squirrel. Pheasant maybe?

Just then the alarm sounded and everyone looked at it and groaned.

“A visitor,” said Much with a frown.

“Let's go,” said Robin.

Everyone set down their meal and grabbed their weapons and took off at a trot.

“Hello, there,” called Robin as he topped the small slope to the clearing. He came to a stop in front of the man. “Hey, don't I know you?”

The man hung quietly and patiently from the ropes.

“Hey, I know you,” said John as he cme to a stop right behind Robin. “You're one of Legrand's men.”

“That's right,” said Robin with a glance at Will and a jerk of his head.

“Dennis,” said the man with a nod, hanging there, apparently waiting patiently for them.

Robin and Will released him and got him back on solid ground.

He rolled his shoulders to work out the discomfort of being strung up and said, “I work for the queen now and she asked me to deliver a letter.”

“A letter? A letter for whom?” asked Robin, looking curious.

“John.” Dennis picked up a knapsack. He must've dropped it when he'd been grabbed by the trap.

“For me?” John asked, as surprised as anyone; he felt the heat rise in his face. Why in the world would the queen be sending him anything? He was just a big clumsy oaf of an outlaw. Their time together had been...well, it had been special and amazing, and he cherished the memory, but he never expected there to be anything more between them. She was the queen for pity's sake.

Much grinned and murmured, “Big Bear,” but the rest of them just looked perplexed.

“For you.” Dennis handed John the packet bearing the queen's seal.

He looked at the square of folded parchment and the red waxy seal. Another rush of heat warmed John's face. “Thank you,” he said, too embarrassed to admit he couldn't read. He'd ask Robin to read it later.

“We were just sitting down to supper,” Robin said. “Would you like to join us?”

Dennis smiled. “That's very generous, but I must be on my way.”

“All right, then. Safe travels.”

Dennis slung his knapsack over his shoulder and waved and walked back toward the Great North Road.

As he disappeared around the bend, the gang started back toward camp. Tuck and Kate were in the lead with Much and Allan right behind them. John and Robin brought up the rear.

“Well, big man, open it. Wot's it say?” asked Allan.

“I think John would prefer to read his mail in private, eh?” Robin said, clasping him on the shoulder as they trudged down the slope and into the trees.

John cast Robin a grateful look. Robin nodded his understanding.

It was the following day before John and Robin were able to find some time alone. They'd gone their separate ways after agreeing to meet at the small pool near Clun.

“Do you have any idea what it's about?” Robin asked, peeling the seal off the parchment and unfolding it. He handed the seal to John.

John looked at the image of the lady embedded in the wax and traced the words around the edges with a forefinger. He shook his head. “I have no idea.”

“Well, here goes...

_“Dearest John,_

_“It is with both happiness and trepidation that I write you. Happiness because, after my initial shock, I find myself quite thrilled. Trepidation because I do not know how you will take the news. I'm not sure how to say it, especially on paper, other than to just say it, so..._

_“As a result of our night together, I find myself in the family way.”_

John's stomach dropped to his feet. _“What?”_ he asked incredulously. “She's having a _baby_? _My_ baby? How can this be? We are both of us too old to make babies.” He stomped and paced around the pond and grumbled for a few moments. Finally, he stopped and looked at Robin. “A baby? That's what she said?”

“Would you like me to continue?” Robin asked, being so kind as to show no reaction at all.

John sighed and nodded.

 _“Rest assured that this is truly your child as it had been more than a year prior to our time together that I was with someone in that way and there has certainly been no one since. My physician assures me that this_ is possible, as im-possible as it seems. The human body is an amazing thing, no?

“Now that I have gotten over the shock, I am thrilled to no end. That being said, I must disclose that in the course of my life, I have miscarried almost as many babies as I have borne. I am, however, doing everything within my power to prevent the loss of this child.  Our child. And if all goes well, he or she should arrive close to the end of March of next year.

“In a few months' time, I will feign an illness and retire from public life. Both to protect the babe and to hide its existence. I hope you understand that I cannot publicly bear this child, much as I love and cherish it.

“I ask nothing of you, John, but that you rejoice with me in this. I am happier about this than you can possibly imagine. If you wish to travel here to France, you will be most welcome, however you must do it before I 'take ill', but I do not command your presence. The choice is entirely up to you. I send this missive as I felt you had a right to know.

“I remain your queen and your friend,

“Ellie”

Robin handed the letter to John.

John scanned the contents though he did not know the words. Her writing was bold, but feminine. Very much like her, and he couldn't help the smile despite his astonishment and shock. He refolded the paper.

“I'm going to be a father again,” he said softly. He still couldn't believe it. But her pleasure and joy was perfectly clear and he couldn't help but be happy for her. But he truly didn't know whether or not to be happy for himself.

“Congratulations,” said Robin sincerely.

He nodded and looked at Robin. “Should I go to her?”


	3. FIC: The Consequences of Attraction, Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John travels to France.

“So'd ya read the letter yet?”asked Allan around a mouthful of stew; his brow arched over one bright blue eye.

“Aye,” said John, nodding, passing through to his bunk and stashing his staff beneath it.

 

“And?” Allan looked after him.

“And it's John's private letter, eh?” Robin said. “However, John will be going away for a time.”

“What? Why?” asked Much, looking both curious and panicked.

“It's not our business, now is it?”said Robin.

“B-b-but he can't just leave us,” Much cried.

“He's not leaving us, Much. He's going to France.”

“It sounds to me like he's leaving us.” Much looked about at the others.

John sighed. He appreciated Much's dismay, but it couldn't be helped. The queen—no _Ellie_ —he had to go to her, had to be there for her as he had not been for Alice.

Tuck clasped a hand on Much's shoulder. “Much. John will be missed, no doubt. Our queen must have need of him. He cannot ignore a summons from her.”

“Summons,” Much sneered and nodded. “I know why he's running off to Fra—”

“Shut it, Much. You have no idea what you're talking about.”

Much's eyes widened and his mouth flapped several times but he remained silent.

John didn't really blame him for his assumption. Ellie had not been shy with her attentions toward him.

 

The two men stood at the edge of the forest near Nottingham’s south gate.

John hugged Robin. “I hate to leave you. But I have to go. I don't know when I'll be back.”

“I know, John. No worries. We'll be fine. Her majesty needs you, too, even if she didn’t say so. And we'll be here when you return.”

“Thank you, Robin.” His voice was low and gruff and the men hugged once more before John left the cover of the trees and headed toward the town gate. A pair of guards stood on each side of the gate as peasants entered and exited without hassle. John scuttled up to the end of a small group of villagers and tried to blend in with them. They passed through and he stayed with them only long enough to be out of view of the gate should the guards look back.

He separated himself and headed for the Trip. It was late afternoon and just about suppertime. It had been since Midsummer, since he and the queen... since Ellie… that he'd eaten anything other than Much's fare and was interested to see how the Trip compared.

And he needed to find Dennis, the queen's messenger. John hoped there would be no problem if he tagged along for the return trip, otherwise he didn't know what he would do. He didn’t know how to get to France, much less to Poitiers on his own. And he hated traveling.

John entered the inn and found a small table along the wall with a good view of the entire room and the stairs. If he had any sort of luck, Dennis would come down for the evening meal, otherwise John would have to go in search of the man himself.

Robin had given John a bag of coin for the journey and when the serving maid came 'round, he ordered a tankard of ale and some stew. _Beef_ stew. He smiled to himself. It would be quite a while until he tasted squirrel again. He was as certain as he could be that the queen did not serve squirrel at the royal table.

A few bites into his stew, he shook his head and chuckled.

“What's so amusing, my friend?”

John looked up and gulped in surprise as Dennis sat down opposite him.

“Well, for all that we give Much a hard time about his cooking, the man can cook. I don't know how he does it, but his food is tasty and hearty despite being cooked in a forest without a proper kitchen, while this...” John indicated his meal. “...is just so-so.”

“Then perhaps I shouldn't have turned down your offer last evening.”

“Probably not,” John said with a smile before taking another bite.

“So,” said Dennis, “have you decided to send a return message?”

Shaking his head, John swallowed. “I'd like to travel back to France with you.”

“Oh?”

“Do you know what was in the queen's message?”

“Nay.”

“Well, she invited me. Sort of...”

Dennis's brow rose.

“She said I could come and, well, I need to go. So.” John shrugged. “If it's no trouble, I'd like to travel with you. I can pay my own way. And there'll be a horse waiting for me along the Great North Road, should I need one.”

Dennis nodded. “Very good. I plan to leave at daybreak.”

 

They entered the grounds of Poitiers a sennight later and John was quite glad of it. Not that he would have wanted to actually walk, but he was not used to so many hours in the saddle and was relieved to walk again. That is, if he was able. He'd never been so sore in his life. His whole bottom half ached.

He pushed aside his thoughts and looked around him. Once he and Dennis had passed through the large iron gates, it was like another world. They traveled along a wide dirt pathway, trim expanses of bright green grass spread out on either side. Trees dotted the grass and eventually thickened into forests on both sides.

The castle loomed ahead, with a main keep with four rounded turrets on each corner and a very long hall.

Dennis reined his horse to a stop near some steps and dismounted. John followed suit and almost collapsed in a heap. His legs were almost numb from being in the saddle since daybreak.

“You all right, John?” asked Dennis, coming around the horse.

John nodded and grunted. “Yes.”

Dennis smiled and shook his head. “Come along, then. We'll find you some accommodations and then see if Her Majesty is up for a visit. She’d been feeling ill when I left.”

John followed Dennis up the stairs and into the building. John knew the cause of her illness and was certain she’d see him.

The porter, tall, thin, and balding, appeared and bowed to Dennis. “Monsieur Gaillard.”

“Certaines chambres pour Monsieur Little, s'il vous plaît,” said Dennis to the stern looking man.

“Oui.” The man bowed again and then looked to John. “Droit de cette façon.”

John must have looked perplexed.

Dennis said, “He says to follow him.”

“Oh.” John nodded. “Thanks.”

To the porter, Dennis said, “Il ne parle pas Français.”

The porter nodded and held out his hand as a silent invitation to John.

“I’ll let the queen know you are here. Someone will find you and escort you to see her when she is ready.”

“Thank you,” John said, following after the porter.

He was shown to a grand room, the likes of which he’d never seen before. Colorful tapestries covered the walls and a large bed with a post on each corner sat on one wall. A huge stone fireplace graced the outer wall, and there were windows on either side of it. John wandered around looking at the fanciness of it all and then down at himself. His clothes were worn and dirty. He himself was dirty and unkempt. It had been quite some time since he’d bathed.

Who was he to think he could just walk back into her life? Child or no. He was mad. And he wasn’t staying. If he could have, he would have just left without seeing her. But she would have been told by now of his arrival. Besides, he didn’t think he could find his way back out of the castle. Maybe if he cleaned up first…

He searched in earnest for a wash basin and water. He finally found them, but then what? He had no clean clothes and no hair brush or comb. He groaned. He shouldn’t have come.

The knock on the door startled him and he whirled around to stare at the door. It had been no more than ten minutes since he’d been here.

He opened the door to a woman, much younger than himself, but not too maidenly. She was quite pretty with large blue eyes and hair the color of a pale orangish sunset.

She looked him up and down but made no reaction. “Please to come with me,” she said in heavily accented English and with a slight curtsy. “You are Jean, no?”

“John Little, yes,” he replied. “And you?”

“I am Alison. We go.”

With a deep breath he stepped into the hall and pulled the door closed behind him. His leg muscles still ached from being on horseback for so many days in a row, but it felt good to walk and stretch them out.

Her long skirt swished lightly along the floor as she led him along one long corridor, down two flights of steps and then into another hall.

“La reine que vous voyez maintenant,” she said when she finally stopped in front of a pair of wood doors. A guard stood on each side.

“Pardon?”

She smiled and blushed prettily. “You see the queen…” She knocked on the door and waited a moment before opening it. She took a few steps inside. “Majesté, votre invité est ici.

“Oui.” Alison stepped back into the corridor and waved her hand toward the inside of the chamber. “You go in.”

With a deep breath, John took one step, then another, until he was inside.

[ **Part 4**](http://jagnikjen.livejournal.com/26923.html)  
  
~*~*~


	4. FIC: The Consequences of Attraction, Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John arrives in France and has second thoughts about his decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> none

**Word Count:** 1135  
 **Rating:** G  
 **Spoilers:** Treasure of the Nation  
 **Warnings:** none  
 **Notes:** none  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Robin Hood, Robin, Marian, et al. I have earned nothing from this endeavor but the joy that comes from the writing and the possibility of a nice comment or two.  
 **Summary:** John arrives in France and has second thoughts about his decision.

~*~*~

**The Consequences of Attraction, Part 4**

John scanned the room until he saw her, and his heart stopped.

She was just as beautiful as he remembered, if not more so.

 

Her smile was wide and welcoming and, if he wasn't mistaken, her eyes glistened.

“John,” she said, her voice soft and full of emotion. She walked toward him.

The door clicked shut behind him and he knew they were alone.

She reached him, her hands held out and he grasped them, thankful he'd at least washed his own.

He dropped to one knee, still holding her hands. “Majesty.”

“Oh, please, John...” She tugged at his hands and he rose. “Our agreement still stands.”

He nodded and pulled his hands from hers. She glanced downwards and her face fell slightly. He felt like an ass.

Now that he was here, he wasn't sure what to say. As he looked at her in her fancy gown with her hair done, although she wore no crown, he felt even more uncomfortable and unworthy of her audience. And especially unworthy of being the father of her child.

Who was he to think she needed him? That he had anything to offer her?

She didn't need him. And he had nothing to offer. To her or their child. She had wealth and servants and others of more knowledge and importance to serve her. To help her and care for her and the child. He was just a big stupid ugly outlaw.

He looked about the chamber. It was large and richly decorated with tapestries on the walls and thick rugs on the floor. And a huge bed that loomed on one side of the room. It sported an intricately carved headboard that stood a couple of heads taller than he was and a tester that was equally elaborate. Plush draperies hung from the tester and were held back with golden cording. The camp could have fit into this room four times with space leftover. He hadn’t even been able to provide for his own family. He could not provide for a queen used to luxury and plenty. He lived in a continual state of need. What the hell had he been thinking?

“I can't stay,” he blurted, feeling the heat rush his face.

Her eyes widened. “What? Why not? You just got here,” she said with dismay.

John shook his head. “I don't belong here. I came to...to...check on you and...the child... But you don't need me. Robin and Much, the gang, they need me, the people of Nottinghamshire, they need me too, but you...you don't need me.” He dropped his gaze to the floor.

Sorrow and longing filled Eleanor. “That's where you're wrong, John.”

His head shot up and he gaped at her. “Look at me.” He held his arms out and waved his hands down his body. “I am not...” He seemed to search his mind for the right word and finally said, “...worthy,” in defeat.

“Is that what you think I look at? What I see?” _Oh, John..._ He was so wrong.

“I don't know...” At her frown, he shook his head and said, “No, but the others...”

“What others?”

“Dennis, Alison, that man at the door.”

“Did they say something?” They wouldn't have, she was sure. They'd been taught and paid handsomely to keep their thoughts and feelings to themselves unless asked.

“No, but they're probably thinking it. Anyone who sees me probably thinks the same thing. _Who is that big ugly dirty smelly oaf?_ ”

“The dirty smelly oaf part is easily solved. The big...well, that's the way God made you and I like it. The ugly part is patently untrue.”

Color flooded John's face and she smiled. He was easily embarrassed and she found that quite endearing. It had been quite some time since she'd come across a man who was uncomplicated and lacked ulterior motives. It's what had drawn her to him in the first place. “Do you know what I see?”

He shook his head.

“I see my _friend_. _John_. And the father of my child. I see one of the few men—few people—whom I implicitly trust.” _I see the man with whom I could easily fall in love. Am falling in love with._ But he didn't need to know that. She knew that would frighten him away faster than just about anything else. “I was never so glad to see anyone as I was to see you a few minutes ago. I swear, John. For all that I'm surrounded by people all the time, I am actually quite lonely. As I told you at the Mucky Duck, I have few true friends and would be pleased to still count you among them. Your coming here means everything to me and I thank you.”

John looked quite moved. “Y-your welcome...”

“Will you stay, for a few days at least?”

He nodded. “Yes, of course.”

She held out a hand toward the seating area. “Now, let's sit and chat, shall we?”

He nodded again and followed her to the pair of chairs in front of the large fireplace. He dropped to the floor.

“What are you doing? Sit in the chair.”

“No, Majesty—” At her raised brow, he amended, “Ellie...”

She smiled, the sparkle returning to her eyes.

“...I am filthy and will not dirty up your furniture. And I owe you an apology.”

“Whatever for?” she asked, honestly perplexed.

“For showing up looking like this, like the grungy outlaw I am. I'm surprised your people actually let me in.”

“Listen to me—you came, and I have never seen a more welcome sight than you standing in my doorway.” Tears pooled in her eyes and slid down her cheek. She wiped them away impatiently.

“Ah, Maj—Ellie, don't cry. Please. I am no good with tears.” He looked suitably distressed.

She sniffed and laughed. “I am not usually so weepy. However, the babe has taken over my emotions and I cry at the silliest things these days.”

He looked up at her, into her eyes. “I'm sorry about that... about being careless.”

“Oh, John, no... don't be sorry. There was no way to know. At our age?” She laughed. “Imagine my surprise. But I assure you, I am ecstatic.”

“Really?” She heard the doubt in his voice, saw it on his face.

She sobered and nodded. “Really... a child conceived in passion, John, not duty... Yes.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I have never wanted a child more.”

She held his gaze for several long moments as her mind cast about for some way to convince him to stay longer than a few days. Not that she'd force him if he was dead-set against it. Then it came to her. She smiled and said, “I have a proposition for you.”

[ **Part 5** ](http://jagnikjen.livejournal.com/27194.html)

~*~*~


	5. FIC: The Consequences of Attraction, Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eleanor makes her proposition; John enjoys a bath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> none

**Word Count:** 1158  
 **Rating:** PG  
 **Spoilers:** Treasure of the Nation  
 **Warnings:** none  
 **Notes:** none  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Robin Hood, Robin, Marian, et al. I have earned nothing from this endeavor but the joy that comes from the writing and the possibility of a nice comment or two.  
 **Summary:** Eleanor makes her proposition; John enjoys a bath.

~*~*~

**The Consequences of Attraction, Part 5**

“It seems to me that's what got us into this situation in the first place.”

Ellie laughed. She forgotten his wonderful sense of humor and how much they had laughed the night they'd spent together. John smiled as well.

“Are you ready to hear my proposal?” she asked.

John's brow arced. “Now it's a proposal?”

She shook her head and grinned. “Not a marriage proposal—at least not yet.” She winked. “So my _idea_ , how's that?”

He nodded, looking a bit unsure now.

She pushed aside the urge to make a joke about men and their pride and took a breath. “I know that you are a...proud man and would find it difficult to accept my largesse.”

His shaggy dark brows drew together in confusion.

“Gifts of clothing and food and things. A place to live.”

Understanding dawned and he nodded.

“So I would like to offer you a job.”

“A job...? A job you've _created_ to give me? That seems just as largesse to me.”

Pursing her lips, she nodded. He was a smart one. “I can understand why you would think that and I assure you that is not the case. The castle grounds are large and Jacques is getting old. Jacques is my chief gamekeeper and his son, Cheval, follows in his footsteps, but I know they could use the help.”

He still looked doubtful.

“You talk to them and if you still do not feel it is a legitimate offer, then by all means go into the town and search for work.”

He nodded. “But why do I need a job if I'm not staying?”

The crux of the problem. How to get him to stay. “I thought if you had a job, something to do with yourself, then you would stay.”

He shook his head. “I have a job. In Nottinghamshire. And no offense, but it's a wee bit more important than being your gamekeeper.”

Nodding, she said, “Yes. Yes, it is.” She was quiet for a moment and then asked. “So you would choose going back to England and continuing to live as an outlaw over your queen.”

“Nay. I choose going back to England over being your gamekeeper. I would do anything you ask of me.”

She deflated and sank into the chair. “I know you would. I just hoped you'd stay.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up a hand.

“Yes, I could ask it of you, but you would not be happy. 'Twould serve no purpose.”

He remained silent.

_Stubborn man_. She sighed. “Well, we have a few days, no? To visit and talk. Perhaps, you'd like to go back to your quarters and take care of the dirty smelly oaf problem. Then we shall meet for supper. Does that suit?” Her attempt at a joke fell flat.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” he said and lumbered to his feet. His rancor subtle but received.

She sighed. She supposed she deserved that. It hadn't come across as she intended. And she wasn't making her case very well either.

“John?”

He was halfway to the door but he stopped and turned around. His expression remained neutral but she read the wariness.

“After you've had a chance to rest from your trip and freshen up, I'd be honored if you'd join me for the evening meal.”

Inclining his head, he said, “I'd like that.” And after a long moment, he smiled and added, “Ellie.”

She released the breath she'd been holding and smiled back. “Wonderful. Dinner is at seven. I'll send Alison after you to show you where the dining room is.”

~*~

John eventually found his way back to the room he'd been given. A young maid stood outside the door.

“'Ello,” she said with a curtsy as he approached.

“Hello,” he said, going into his chamber. “Can I help you?”

Following, she said, “Would monsieur want a bath now? We have brought ze tub.”

John nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

She curtsied again and hurried for the door.

“Wait—”

She stopped and turned back. “Oui?”

“What's your name?”

“Suzette.”

“Suzette. I need some new, some clean clothes. How can I get some clean clothes?”

“I will bring Monsiuer Diddier. He will help. But first I have the water to come.”

“Thanks.”

With yet another curtsy, she disappeared, pulling the door shut behind her.

John surveyed the room again. _If_ he stayed and _if_ he found work here in France—which he had no intention of doing—he could not remain in this room. It was too big, too rich for the likes of him. He was a simple man and would prefer simpler housing. But for now, as a guest, he would enjoy it.

There was a knock at the door and he whirled around to stare at it. “Come in.”

The door swung open and a page appeared and then another and another, all toting buckets of steaming water. They each carried two, for balance he surmised, and set them both down before pouring first one and then the other into the large tub.

He hadn't paid it any attention earlier, but it was a rather large tub. As if it was built for a man his size. Unlike most other tubs he'd ever used in his life. Anticipation began to course through his veins. A bath in a tub he would actually fit in. Many people thought he just didn't like bathing, but it really wasn't that. He liked being clean, but the whole process of bathing was a giant hassle and a pain when he sat in a tub and his knees touched his chest. It wasn't so easy to get clean then. And that's when he had access to tub. The River Trent was either too far, too cold, or flowing too swiftly for a decent bath.

He walked around the tub now, studying it, gauging its size. He'd be able to sit comfortably and have his legs extended. He'd only have to bend them slightly when he submerged himself.

The stream of pages, all older boys, continued and he started to feel slightly guilty that all this work was being done on his behalf.

“Thank you,” he said, as each teen picked up his empty buckets and left.

And finally it was full. The door closed behind the last one and he was alone. He shucked off his clothing and was just about ready to climb in when he remembered soap and a towel. He glanced around and spotting what he needed on a small table, picked the whole table up and moved it next to the tub.

He placed one foot and then the other into the heated water. A sigh of delight escaped him as he sat down and stretched out as far as the tub allowed. Leaning, back against the slanted back-section of the wooden tub, he sank down as far as his neck into the water and sighed.

[ **Part 6** ](http://jagnikjen.livejournal.com/28447.html)


	6. FIC: The Consequences of Attraction, Part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John joins the queen for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> none

**Word Count:** 1257  
 **Rating:** G  
 **Spoilers:** Treasure of the Nation  
 **Warnings:** none  
 **Notes:** none  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Robin Hood, Robin, Marian, et al. I have earned nothing from this endeavor but the joy that comes from the writing and the possibility of a nice comment or two.  
 **Summary:** John joins the queen for dinner.

~*~*~

**The Consequences of Attraction, Part 6**

  
John looked at his reflection in the large looking glass. He looked like a different person. Of course, who wouldn't after their first bath in too many months to count. But the clothes he now wore transformed him as well.

Monsieur Diddier, the solemn man John had met when he and Dennis first arrived, and Suzette had reappeared after his bath. He'd wrapped the large toweling around his waist and had been fretting over not only his clothing problem, but his hair problem. Try as he had to wash it, there were too many tangles and mats that wouldn't come out.

Monsieur Diddier had spoken no English and Suzette had been their go between. John had been embarrassed at first, but both of them had been so nice about everything, he relaxed and allowed them to help him, to do their jobs.

John's hair was considerably shorter now. They'd taken the shears to it and it felt good to be rid of the excess hair and grunge. And without the length or the grime, it curled a bit at the ends. He wore a borrowed tunic, braies, and hose for the time being, but Monsieur Diddier accepted his coin and promised to bring the royal clothier the following morning to measure John for his own clothing. He would have new clothes by supper the following day.

He was alone now and waiting for Alison to come fetch him for supper. He hoped it was soon because his stomach grumbled something fierce.

While waiting, he lay down on the large bed. Aside from his bunk in the camp, the last real bed he'd slept in was the one he'd shared with Alice. Even then, there were very few similarities to this one. Size for one thing. From the time he'd been thirteen or fourteen his feet had hung off the end of every bed he ever slept in. And his and Alice's bed had barely been wide enough for him alone, much less the both of them. But he'd never complained and neither had she. He was grateful they'd had a bed at all.

This bed, however... He lay in the center of it and spread both his arms and his legs as far out as they would go and was still not able to touch the sides or ends. He was looking forward to sleeping in it.

The knock on the door had him scuttling off the bed. He hurried to the door to find Alison.

“The dining hall is this way,” she said.

Again he followed her down the corridor and, instead of two flights of stairs, they went down four, through another corridor and through a large doorway.

His stomach rumbled as they descended the last section of the stairs and the delicious smell of food reached him. Roasted meats. Yeasty breads. He hadn't eaten anything but bread and cheese and various varieties of stew in so long.

Alison led him through the wide doorway and toward Ellie. No. Here in public, she was Quean Eleanor. She sat at the head of the table, a soft smile on her face as she presided over the room. Two dozen or so happy chattering people sat along either side of the feast-laden table.

When she noticed them, her smile widened and a sparkle entered her eyes. He felt her eyes glide over him like a caress and John's heart shuddered. He hoped that meant what he thought it meant.

What was he doing? She was the _queen_ for mercy's sake. One of the most powerful women in the world. He was nobody and he had no business here. He was completely out of his depth and out of his mind. Well, he was only staying a few days.

There were empty chairs on either side of the queen. John pulled out the closest one for Alison and she bobbed a shallow curtsy before sliding into it.

“Merci,” she said.

“Welcome,” John replied and circled behind Eleanor to take the other.

“Well, you must be famished,” Eleanor said. “Help yourself.”

“What about you?” He glanced at her plate. “You need to eat.”

“I'm not hungry,” she said, looking a bit wan. “But you enjoy.”

John frowned. Was that part of her plan or did she truly not feel well? How could he eat if she was ill? He opened his mouth to say as much, when Alison caught his eye and shook her head. _What_ did that mean? She deliberately reached for a slice of venison and with a single curt nod of her head, indicated he should do the same.

He filled his plate several times and enjoyed every morsel. Well, for the most part. But now he was stuffed and felt as if he could lie down and sleep for days.

The queen remained quiet as he ate, watching the others around the table, and occasionally asking how he enjoyed one thing or another. The cheeky woman he remembered had disappeared. He hoped it was just an act, because if the babe she carried—the babe he'd planted within her—was the cause of this new subdued Eleanor, he wasn't sure he liked it one bit. And would gladly sacrifice the babe, despite her professions of love and joy, if it meant she would be her old self, her real self again.

When it seemed that everyone was finished, Eleanor leaned over to Alison. They exchanged a few words and then the queen stood. Alison looked at him and stood as well. John jumped to his feet, as did everyone else around the table. The room immediately quieted.

“I hope you have all enjoyed your meal,” Eleanor said, inclining her head.

“Long live the queen,” someone shouted.

“Long live the queen,” chanted the group as a whole.

Eleanor smiled one last time and mouthed, “Thank you,” and then swept off her dais and proceeded from the dining room.

John looked after her, unsure of what to do. Everyone else sat back down and resumed their conversations. John looked to Alison.

She leaned forward and said, “In a few minutes you may return to your chamber. If the queen wishes your company, she will send someone after you.”

“Is she all right?”

“She has not been feeling well for several days now. If her appetite does not improve I will insist she consult with Docteur Boucher.”

John nodded dumbly. She seemed perfectly fine earlier when he'd been with her.

When Alison rose, he rose.

“I bid you good evening,” she said with a nod and a smile. “I must tend to her majesty.”

“Of-of course.”

She curtsied then and then left the room. As he didn't know anyone else and they were all speaking French, he followed suit and made his way back to his room.

John debated getting out of his borrowed clothes, but should the queen summons him, he would just have to get re-dressed and he wasn't quite sure he could manage the hose without help.

_If the queen summoned him_. That got his goat. Who was she...? He smacked himself on the forehead. She was the queen. And he was a nobody. She could summons whomever she wished and he could get huffy about it if he chose, but what was the point? She couldn't be seen with the likes of an English peasant, no matter that he cleaned up halfway decent.

She was still the queen.

And he was still a peasant. An outlaw, even.

He huffed.

And this wasn't Sherwood Forest.

[ **Part 7** ](http://jagnikjen.livejournal.com/34051.html)

~*~*~


	7. FIC: The Consequences of Attraction, Part 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John contemplates the situation and comes to decision and a realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mega apologies to anyone who's been following this story. Life just gets busy sometimes. If you need a refresher, links to the first six parts are below.

**Word Count:** 956  
 **Rating:** G  
 **Spoilers:** Treasure of the Nation  
 **Warnings:** none  
 **Notes:** Mega apologies to anyone who's been following this story. Life just gets busy sometimes. If you need a refresher, links to the first six parts are below.  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Robin Hood, Robin, Marian, et al. I have earned nothing from this endeavor but the joy that comes from the writing and the possibility of a nice comment or two.  
 **Summary:** John contemplates the situation and comes to decision and a realization.

[Part 1](http://jagnikjen.livejournal.com/24930.html), [Part 2](http://jagnikjen.livejournal.com/25676.html), [Part 3](http://jagnikjen.livejournal.com/26175.html), [Part 4](http://jagnikjen.livejournal.com/26923.html), [Part 5](http://jagnikjen.livejournal.com/27194.html), [Part 6](http://jagnikjen.livejournal.com/28447.html)

~*~*~

**The Consequences of Attraction, Part 7**

John paced his chamber. How long did he wait? If she wasn't feeling well, perhaps she'd taken to her bed and called the doctor.

Maybe no one knew she was ill.

He shook his head. No. Alison said she was going to the queen. So if the queen needed something, Alison would have taken care of it.

He was helpless to do a thing for her and he didn't like feeling that way. He'd gotten her into this predicament, although she claimed to be quite happy about it, but there was nothing else he could do.

During the trip to France, he'd thought of nothing else but that babe. What it meant, how it'd happened at their ages, how Ellie was doing. But he'd never stopped to consider how he _felt_ about the child and about being a father at his age—whatever that age might be. It had torn him apart to let Little Little John go away, but he couldn't be a father to his son as an outlaw.

And now he had another child coming.

Love so pure welled inside him it almost hurt. A babe. _His_ babe.

He was going to be a father again. And suddenly nothing seemed impossible.

The king would return to England, Robin would be pardoned and so would the gang. John would be free to live his life. See Little Little John, be a father to this child.

But not a husband to the queen. Not even if he were pardoned.

She didn't love him. Could never love him.

Just as quickly as his happiness surged, it drained from him.

Queens didn't marry peasants and nothing was going to change that. Ever.

Why had he even thought it? He'd been nothing but a pleasant roll in the hay for her. A lark. She didn't care for him in that way. Why would she?

Sorrow filled him now. His heart was heavy and regret clogged his throat.

He wanted to go home. He didn't belong here. Not even for a few days. But stay he would as he had promised her. And after that, he would return to England, to Sherwood, and to the gang. To the life he was destined for: outlaw and woodsman.

John reached for the buttons on his borrowed tunic. Someone knocked on the door just as he released the fourth fastener. He hurried to re-fasten them and moved to the door, yanking it open.

Suzette curtsied and smiled. “Sil vous plait, Monsieur Little. La reine wants to see you.”

John sighed. “Of course.”

“Do you remember the way?” the young maid asked.

“Yes, thank you.” He pulled the door shut behind him.

“Then I will go to get the wine. La reine wants mulled wine...”

John nodded.

Suzette scurried off and out of sight.

A few minutes later, John approached the doors to Eleanor's chamber, his steps slowing. Two soldiers stood on either side as they had earlier. They didn't move, didn't even look at him. John nodded at the one even though he knew the man wouldn't acknowledge him and stepped forward and knocked on the door.

He heard nothing from the other side and was a bit startled when the door flew open.

Alison stood there with a frown on her face.

She didn't want him here, that was plain enough. Well, that made two of them.

“Come in, John,” Eleanor called from within.

Alison stepped back to allow him to pass and he entered.

Eleanor sat in one of the chairs in front of the hearth, her feet propped up on a small stool and a small blanket over her legs. A small fire crackled merrily in the fireplace. “Vous pouvez aller, Alison,” she said.

“Oui,” was Alison's terse reply before she pulled the chamber door shut behind her with a sharp click. They were alone again.

“She thinks I should be in bed,” Eleanor said.

“Should you?”

“Not you too?”she asked, waving to the chair next to hers. “Sit down.”

Lowering himself into the padded armchair, he said, “You didn't eat dinner. Of everyone worried about you, I have an additional concern for your health, no?”

Her face softened and she smiled at him. “Our child.”

He met her gaze and caught his breath.

_He loved her._

It came to him in a flash of feeling. He loved a queen. As a man loves a woman. And he hadn't a snowball's chance in hell of showing her that love. How could he love a woman he'd spent less than twenty-four hours with? How could he love a queen?

_Bugger._ He couldn't. Well, he could—he _did_ —but he couldn't do a damn thing about it.

His eyes clouded and he turned his gazed to the fire to blink away the rush of tears.

“Aye.” He nodded. It was all he could say past the lump in his throat.

Their child. A child he wanted more than almost anything else in the world.

“It's time to put my plan into action, so I ate earlier. I will feign illness and retire from public life. Once the child is born...” She shrugged. “...I may regain my health, I may not.”

“What would you do?”

“I would raise our child. As I did not raise my other children. I'll spoil her and love her and sing to her and hold her.”

Her face took on a glow as she spoke.

John's heart threatened to burst within him. “Her?” He liked the thought of a daughter. A little girl with her mother's sparkling eyes and chestnut colored hair; stout and full of mischief.

When she looked at him, there were tears in her eyes. She nodded. “Yes, a little girl...”

[ **Part 8** ](http://jagnikjen.livejournal.com/34683.html)

~*~*~


	8. FIC: The Consequences of Attraction, Part 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has trouble sleeping. And then he must face Eleanor with his decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mega apologies to anyone who's been following this story. Life just gets busy sometimes.

**Word Count:** 1071  
 **Rating:** G  
 **Spoilers:** Treasure of the Nation  
 **Warnings:** none  
 **Notes:** Mega apologies to anyone who's been following this story. Life just gets busy sometimes.  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Robin Hood, Robin, Marian, et al. I have earned nothing from this endeavor but the joy that comes from the writing and the possibility of a nice comment or two.  
 **Summary:** John has trouble sleeping. And then he must face Eleanor with his decision.

~*~*~

**The Consequences of Attraction, Part 8**

  
John awoke with a start and sat up in the huge bed, heart pounding and a thin layer of sweat coating his skin. He knew where he was, knew he was safe, and with deliberate slowness, he pulled in large draughts of air to calm his racing heart.

He'd dreamt of Sherwood, of one of the many close calls he'd had escaping from the sheriff's clutches. He'd dreamt of the sheriff's face alight with sadistic pleasure of having captured one of Robin Hood's men. He'd dreamt of being tortured.

John scrambled from the bed and hurried to a window and stuck his head out the opening. Cool night air, scented with flowers from the gardens below, bathed his face and he relaxed. A little. He was safe for the time being. But in a few days time, he would be heading back to the very real possibilities of his dream.

_Unless you accept Eleanor's offer..._

He pushed away that small voice. He did not want a make-work job just to be at the beck and call of a woman. No, not just a woman—the queen of England and duchess of Aquitaine and whatever other titles she wore. Tomorrow he'd have to tell her. It would hurt. A lot. But he just couldn't bring himself to stay. She could easily find someone else to take care of her livestock. The gang and England and the villagers needed him far more. Sadness and relief battled within him as the more dominant feeling.

A fat shimmering white moon hung in the sky casting a silvery glow across the gardens and fields beyond. A movement caught John's eye; two people from opposite ends of the garden approached one another, embraced and then kissed passionately. John would have been moved except he could have sworn that it was two men. He turned away from the view and looked into the room. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the gloomy darkness but the outline of the huge bed finally came into focus.

He returned to the bed and spread out, face down. He'd had a hard time falling asleep earlier and he wasn't quite sure why.

_Because you oaf, the bed's too soft. It may be big enough for you, but you're used to sleeping on a thin mattress filled with rushes and leaves._

Gathering up the blankets from the bed, John rolled to the floor and got comfortable. That was more like it. Releasing a deep breath, he relaxed and finally drifted off to sleep.

 

 

“Monsieur Little...Monsie—”

John woke with a grunt and sat up. He blinked away the fog of sleep and focused on the young maid.

Suzette had fallen backwards on her arse when he'd awakened so suddenly and she scrambled to her feet. “Monsieur Little, why do you sleep upon the floor? Is the bed broken? I will have someone to fix it right...”

He shook his head. “No, no. It is fine. I uh...bad back...the bed was too soft for my bad back,” he said.

“Oh? We can—”

“No, this is just fine. Perfect, even. As long you don't tell anyone.” Even having to sleep on the floor, on a woven mat, wrapped in luxurious blankets, in a warm chamber was way above his normal sleeping arrangements.

Suzette looked confused but curtsied. “Oui. It will be our secret then.”

They were both silent for a short time and Suzette just stared at him. At his bare chest, actually. She'd probably never seen so much hair on a man's body before.

Heat edged his face and John smiled and finally asked, “Is there something you needed?”

The maid's eyes moved from his chest to his face, color tinting her cheeks. “Non...um, oui...la reine would like to see you this morning.”

Any amusement he'd just harbored fled in the remembrance of his task for the day: telling Eleanor that he was going home.

John nodded and waited for Suzette to leave. But she didn't. “Was there something else?”

“Non. I will be making the bed and cleaning the room once you have gone to see la reine.”

“Ah.” That was a problem. He was completely naked under the blankets and he wasn't exposing himself to this little girl. “Can you come back in a few minutes while I get dressed?”

“Pardon?”

“I, uh...I'm not used to getting dressed in front of people...can you wait in the hall for a moment?”

Her eyes widened in realization and she curtsied. “Oui.” The she hurried out the door.

John let out a breath of relief and threw off the blankets. Picking up the soft bundle, he tossed them back on the bed and went to use the privvy. Then he got dressed and headed for the door. Pulling it open, he saw Suzette looking out one of the large windows that lined the wall across from his chamber door. There was an expanse of trimmed green below bordered by a huge forest. The day was gray and a light drizzle fell on the countryside.

“Suzette,” he said softly, not wanting to startle her, but she still whirled around in surprise. “Sorry,” he offered.

She smiled and shook her head.

“Where is the queen? In her chamber?”

She nodded and curtsied.

“Thanks.”

“De rien,” she said and slipped into his chamber.

 

He was not looking forward to seeing Eleanor today. Only because he hated having to tell her his decision; but tell her he must and then make haste to be on his way and get back home as quickly as possible.

She would be disappointed. But she wouldn't miss him. She might say so, but she wouldn’t. She had plenty of people to care for her, to do her bidding. And he just couldn't be one of them. Even though he loved her. That was the hardest part. But she didn't know that. Would probably laugh if she knew. The thought stung, but he shrugged it off.

The chamber door was open as he approached. Another young maid hurried out. The guards stood stiff and quiet on either side.

“Is it all right if I go in?” John asked.

Neither one moved or said anything so John assumed he could. That they'd stop him otherwise.

“Hello?” he called as he entered her chamber.

“John, is that you?” Eleanor replied.

“Aye, majesty, 'tis me.”

[ **Part 9** ](http://jagnikjen.livejournal.com/35344.html)

~*~*~


	9. FIC: The Consequences of Attraction, Part 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John arrives to tell the queen of his decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To [](http://wastingyourgum.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://wastingyourgum.livejournal.com/)**wastingyourgum** \--for you.

**Word Count:** 1107  
 **Rating:** PG  
 **Spoilers:** Treasure of the Nation  
 **Warnings:** none  
 **Notes:** To [](http://wastingyourgum.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://wastingyourgum.livejournal.com/)**wastingyourgum** \--for you.  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Robin Hood, Robin, Marian, et al. I have earned nothing from this endeavor but the joy that comes from the writing and the possibility of a nice comment or two.  
 **Summary:** John arrives to tell the queen of his decision.

~*~*~

**The Consequences of Attraction, Part 9**

 

Worry pooled in John's gut. She didn't sound well, sounded weak. He found her in the same padded arm chair once more, her feet up and a blanket covering her lap, legs, and feet. A flagon and goblet sat on the small table nestled between the two chairs.

“Are you well, my lady?” he asked, coming to rest on the edge of the second chair.

She smiled and nodded and then winked. “Ah, John, I'm feeling a little under the weather. As of yet, Docteur Boucher has been unable to find a name or a reason for my malady.”

“I'm sorry, your majesty,” he said, unsure of what else _to_ say. She was obviously acting for the sake of the guards and anyone else who might be beyond the doors listening.

She studied him for a few moments and he didn't look away from her scrutiny. “You are leaving me,” she said after a time.

He nodded, his mouth going dry. “Yes. I...” He swallowed.

Eleanor nodded, her heart breaking in two. She could see he was resolute although she didn't know what had changed since yesterday.

Oh, she could plead and beg and he might stay. Or she could order him to stay and he would. But he wouldn't be happy. And neither would she.

She pushed aside all her arguments and her own feelings as well. “I shall miss you, then.”

Color tinted his cheeks and he shook his head as if to deny her words, but said, “And I shall miss you, but I must go. England and the gang, they need me. That is my home, that is where I belong. In an English forest, in the place where I've lived all my life.”

She said nothing for a few minutes, just gazed into the flickering orange light of the fire. She'd become sentimental in her old age and overly emotional due to the babe. She wanted nothing more than to throw herself on the bed and weep. And yet she might, but not in front of John. He looked ill at ease as it was.

She reached for her goblet and took a drink of the wine to wash away the sadness clogging her throat. “When do you leave?” Eleanor hoped she sounded normal. She must have if the look of relief on John's face was any gauge. It almost brought a smile to her face. Almost, but not quite.

He looked down at his lap and then back at her. “As soon as possible, I hope. If your majesty will give me leave to do so.”

“You are not a prisoner, John.”

“Of course not, majesty. I just meant that if—”

She waved a hand. “I know what you meant.” Tears burned her eyes but she refused to give them permission to fall. Instead, she took another drink. “I shall send Dennis with you. Since he speaks French, he will be able to ensure you get to the coast as quickly as possible and book proper passage for you.”

“That's really unnecessary, majesty, I—”

“Never-the-less. Do not argue, John.”

His lips thinned and he nodded. He sat there like a wounded but loyal animal, taking her abuse but not responding in kind.

Dammit. Tears burned her eyes once more. She had not meant to sound so imperious, so harsh, but her heart was breaking and she could not allow him to see it.

The silenced stretched and thickened.

Finally, John took a deep breath and said, “Suzette said you wished to see me this morning.”

Eleanor nodded. “Yes, however, in light of your leaving, it no longer matters.” She cringed inwardly, hating the distance that now infused her voice.

John's shoulders sagged. “Ellie, I'm sorry,” he growled softly.

She felt his eyes on her face.

“Please look at me,” he said “I have not explained myself well enough, have I?”

“You don't owe me an explanation, John. You're a grown man. We are friends, nothing more.”

John winced.

Eleanor let out a little cry and slid from the chair to her knees in front of him.

“What are you doing?” he demanded as he knelt, grasping her upper arms and lifting her to her feet.

She clasped her hands together and looked into those sad brown eyes of his. “I am apologizing. John, I'm _so_ sorry. Your decision... I am handling it badly. Forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive, majesty.”

She placed a hand on his arm. “John… John... do not lie. I have wounded you with my tongue. We _are_ friends. We are more than friends. I need one person who is willing to be honest with me no matter what, despite my status and despite his.”

He hung his head.

“You are supposed to be that friend. You are that friend. Why are we not being honest with one another?” But she was talking more to herself than she was to him. He was being honest with her, telling her with his actions, with his decision, what he could not say with words.

That he did not belong in her world.

And for her to coerce him to stay was a betrayal of their friendship. No matter how much she wanted him to stay, needed him... loved him.

Should she confess her feelings?

Would he stay if she did?

Why would he? That would just be awkward since he did not return the sentiment.

And true friends did what was best for true friends. No... she couldn't tell him how she felt.

She must allow him to return home without guilt and without recriminations.

No matter how much it hurt.

She took a deep breath and blinked back her tears and forced a smile to her face. Damn, she was getting too old for this. She turned to him and took his hands. “John... of course you must return to England. I understand, I truly do. I am disappointed, of course, but I understand.”

“Thank you, your majesty,” he said softly.

She sensed his relief immediately.

“Baldric...” she called loudly toward the door, “...close the doors, if you please.”

When Baldric stepped inside to grab the door handles, she said, “I am not to be disturbed. For any reason except that the castle is on fire.”

“Yes, mum,” Baldric replied, and a moment later, both doors snicked shut and she and John were completely, blessedly, alone.

“Now...” She took his hands in hers and pressed a kiss to the backs of them. Standing up on tip-toe she pressed a kiss to his mouth. She smiled at the surprised expression he now wore. “...take me to bed, John.”

[ **Part 10** ](http://jagnikjen.livejournal.com/38219.html)

~*~*~


	10. FIC: The Consequences of Attraction, Part 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Eleanor engage in a little good-bye sex. Eleanor has the baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to The Excitement of Attraction

**Word Count:** 1020  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Spoilers:** Treasure of the Nation  
 **Warnings:** sex, fairly explicit lead-in to  
 **Notes:** Sequel to The Excitement of Attraction  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Robin Hood, Robin, Marian, et al. I have earned nothing from this endeavor but the joy that comes from the writing and the possibility of a nice comment or two.  
 **Summary:** John and Eleanor engage in a little good-bye sex. Eleanor has the baby.

~*~*~

**The Consequences of Attraction, Part 10**

John's mouth opened and closed several times without any sound coming out and Eleanor smiled.

“Have you got a problem with that, Big Bear?”

“The babe?” he croaked, glancing down at her stomach.

“It was never a problem with my previous pregnancies and the babe and I are fine. It is still fairly early days yet. Our activities should have little effect on our daughter save a sexually satisfied mother. Nothing wrong with that is there?”

John turned scarlet from his neck to his hairline and Eleanor laughed out loud.

John smiled sheepishly. He'd forgotten how outspoken and unreserved she could be. It unnerved him just a little, but it pleased him, too, that she still wanted him. And, he had to admit, her boldness was a turn-on and his body had already begun stirring to life.

He pulled her into his arms, resting his hands on the curve of her arse and his forehead against hers. Much as he loved Alice, he'd always been a bit nervous when making love to her. She was so slender, he always feared hurting her. But Eleanor— _Ellie_ —she was made of sturdier stuff and he wouldn't have to be so reserved in his actions.

Cupping her head in his hands, he tipped it to the right and slanted his mouth across hers.

She slid her hands up his chest and into his hair, grabbing handfuls of it as she parted her lips.

He deepened the kiss even as his hands roamed her body, back, arse, arms...it felt good to have a woman in his arms again.

She ended the kiss and undid the buttons of his tunic, pushing it off his shoulders and to the floor. She then tugged his undershirt up and off his body. Untying the lacings of his chausses and braies she chuckled. “What have we here?” she asked, cupping his hardening manhood.

John let out a surprised yelp. “Majesty...” At her raised brow and gentle squeeze, he said, “Ellie...” in a low growl.

Her smile faded and she turned her back to him.

She remembered the first and last time he'd done this. The consequence of which had brought him here. To France and to her bed once more. She was not sorry in the least.

The brush of his fingers along the sensitive skin of her back sent a shiver through her. When he'd completely unfastened her gown, she slipped her arms from the sleeves, pushed it past her waist and hips and let it fall to the floor. It landed with a faint poof.

She turned to face him. Her thin chemise hid nothing from his hungry gaze; her heavy breasts, rounded abdomen, lush thighs and long legs. The scent of her heightening arousal wafted to him, making his erection throb with need. He pushed his braies down to his knees and pulled each leg free in turn. A moment later, she too was naked.

Somehow, they made it to the bed and it was with fevered kisses, frantic touches, and tender endearments that they became joined.

~*~

_Five and a half months later..._

Eleanor felt the first twinges of labor as dawn broke. She slid from the bed and paced her chamber. She should have moved to a smaller, cozier room. The air was chilly and the stones were cold beneath her feet, even through her slippers. She'd been restless for a week and now she knew why. She was certainly ready to deliver this child, to meet this son or daughter who had come to mean everything to her, but it was still a bit too soon. And that worried her.

Amazingly enough, she'd been able to keep her condition concealed. A handful of people knew, of course. But most thought she was just very, very ill.

The door swung open and Blanche padded inside, heading for the fireplace.

“Blanche,” said Eleanor softly.

The maid looked up, startled, her hand going to her throat. “Oh, my lady, what are you doing up so early? The wee one keeping you awake?”

With a hand to her lower back, Eleanor stretched as best she could, forcing her rounded stomach out. “You could say that. I think it's time, Blanche.”

“Time for what, my la—oh...oh, dear.” She stopped and stared at Eleanor, her brown eyes going wide.

“Blanche, light the fire and then go quickly and _quietly_ after the doctor.” As her personal physician, Henri had rooms in the castle.

Blanche bobbed a curtsy. “Yes, my lady,” she said as she hurried to the fireplace. The fire blossomed in an instant and then Blanche was gone, the door snicking shut behind her.

Eleanor walked back and forth in front of the crackling fire, finally feeling warmed. As the minutes passed, the pains increased in intensity. The last one caused her breath to catch as it began. And a few pains later, she had to stop walking as they gripped her. Thank goodness there was a seating arrangement, two chairs and a small table, situated close to the fireplace. She perched on the edge of the table and panted as the current pain held her captive.

Once it passed, she felt too restless to stay still and stood once more. As she did so, she felt a rush of water down her legs. A good sign, to be sure, but where was that damned doctor? Was she going to have to give birth by herself with only a chamber maid for help?

She cried out when the next pain started, her hand and arm curling around her stomach. Then there was pressure in her bottom. This baby was coming and coming soon. Her heart hammered in her chest. She needed to lie down and quickly. But she knew she wouldn't make it to the bed by herself, so she gripped the arm of the chair next to the fireplace. The next pain held her motionless in its grasp and brought tears to her eyes.

Where was Henri? And Blanche? If they didn't arrive soon, she'd be delivering this child on a cold stone floor by herself.

[ **Part 11** ](http://jagnikjen.livejournal.com/39366.html)

~*~*~


	11. FIC: The Consequences of Attraction, Part 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queen Eleanor gives birth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> none

**Word Count:** 1104  
 **Rating:** PG-13  
 **Spoilers:** Treasure of the Nation  
 **Warnings:** childbirth  
 **Notes:** none  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Robin Hood, Robin, Marian, et al. I have earned nothing from this endeavor but the joy that comes from the writing and the possibility of a nice comment or two.  
 **Summary:** Queen Eleanor gives birth.

~*~*~

**The Consequences of Attraction, Part 11**

The door opened and Blanche rushed in, the doctor only a few steps behind her.

She hurried to Eleanor's side. “Oh, my lady, are you all right?”

Eleanor shook her head as she grunted through another pain. When it was over, she said, “Get me to the bed.”

Blanche took Eleanor's arm and walked beside her as they slowly made their way back to the bed. They stopped once for a labor pain. Blanche winced at Eleanor's grip on her arm, but said nothing. Just patted Eleanor's hand.

The doctor followed carrying his bag. “So, Your Majesty, it is time for the babe, eh?”

Eleanor groaned in reply as she maneuvered herself clumsily into her bed, having to stop once as another pain rolled through her body, her groan echoing through the chamber.

Blanche fluffed the pillows and helped Eleanor get settled.

“Once you're done with that, young lady, bring hot water and clean linens. And we'll need a couple more maids. Your Majesty, who else knows of your condition?”

“My personal attendant, Alison Monseau and a few other maids,” Eleanor said around gasps of pain. “Marie. Nicole. Beatrix.”

The doctor looked at Blanche. “Get them all.”

“Yes, Doctor.” Blanche curtseyed and fled.

“Now, let's take a look.” Henri sat on the bed. “Can you pull up your gown, Majesty?”

After the current pain subsided, Eleanor tugged at the thick flannel until her swollen belly was bare. Her legs fell open revealing her most personal of parts. “Mercy, it hurts,” she said through gritted teeth. “I had forgotten how damn much this hurts.”

“It won't hurt for much longer. Your baby is crowning.” He scooted closer. “Where are those girls and the water and the linens? Mon Dieu, we're going to need them any moment. When the next pain begins, start pushing.”

The door opened again and Alison flew across the room. Going around to the other side, she crawled up next to Eleanor. “Majesty, I am here. What can I do?”

“You can lift her shoulders—gently—as she pushes with the next pain,” said Henri.

“Oui,” said Alison.

“Ready?” Eleanor whispered.

Alison nodded and scooted in behind Eleanor and lifted her head and shoulders.

Eleanor gathered her breath and bore down against the pain. A long low groan tore from her throat. She leaned back against Alison, but the next pain was already upon her.

“Good,” said the doctor, “the head is almost out. One or two more good pushes and we shall have a baby.”

“Again,” Eleanor said breathlessly.

“Yes,” said Alison, lifting her once more.

Taking a deep breath, Eleanor leaned forward and pushed for all she was worth.

“The head is out,” said the doctor.

A small wobbly cry filled the air.

Eleanor looked at Alison, tears of joy and sadness filling her eyes. _Her baby was almost born..._ And she did not have the one with whom she really wanted to share the moment with. John was far far away. She cried harder.

“Oh,” gasped Eleanor, the next contraction beginning. With another deep breath and Alison at her back, she pushed again.

The baby wailed, a small pitiful sound. The most beautiful sound.

Eleanor bore down and with a rush, finally felt a cessation of pain.

The doctor exclaimed, “It's a girl.”

She collapsed back against Alison, who settled her into the mound of pillows. “A girl....” Eleanor said in wonder.

“Congratulations, Majesty,” said Alison.

Eleanor searched out the baby with her eyes as the doctor and the maids cleaned up the birth mess. “Where is she, where is my daughter?”

“Here, Majesty,” said Marie. She settled the swaddled infant into Eleanor's waiting arms.

“Oh...” Eleanor could barely see the baby for the tears in her eyes. She swiped them away. The baby wiggled and fussed, mewling softly. “She's beautiful.”

Small and creamy white and perfect, with a small pink mouth and thin layer of light brown hair.

“We've lined up a wet nurse, my lady,” said Marie. “Would you like us to take the babe to her?”

Eleanor ran a gentle finger down the baby's forehead and tiny nose and across the small rosebud lips. “No....” she whispered as she undid the ties at her neck and bared her breast. “I will feed her.”

“But My Lady...”

“I never did this with my other children. I was always too busy. And I think I have suffered the consequences of that. Now, I have the time and the inclination. So...” Curling the baby into her body, Eleanor helped her daughter take a hold of her breast. After several attempts, the baby latched on and began to suckle eagerly and Eleanor smiled. It had been many a year since she'd done this. Love such as she'd never experienced welled within her. She'd never felt anything close to this for any of her other children upon their births and she wondered why. She loved them, of course. Even John and Phillip. But this was overwhelming. Eleanor closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the pillows.

“Does she have a name, Majesty?” asked Henri.

“She is Christina Elena Joanne,” said Eleanor without opening her eyes.

“Christina? That is an unusual name,” said Alison. “From where did you get that name?”

“From a friend,” Eleanor replied with another smile.

~*~

_Dearest John,_

_It's a girl. A beautiful baby girl with brown eyes, downy hair, and a rosebud mouth. She was born March 11th and is a bit on the small side, but as far as the doctor and I can tell, she is perfectly healthy._

_I have named her Christina.  
_  
“ _What_...?” John asked in disbelief, blinking away the tears that sprung to his eyes.

“What's wrong?” Robin asked.

John shook his head, swiping a hand across his cheeks. “Christina was my mother's name.”

“It's lovely name, John” said Robin, unsure of what else to say.

John pointed at the paper. “Is that all?”

Robin shook his head and continued reading.

_I would love for you to come see us if you can manage it, but I ask that you hold off. It is thought, still, that I am deathly ill and there have been no visitors to the castle for months except the doctors. All the courtiers were sent away several months ago. I will write you again when it would no longer be unusual for a visitor to come._

_She is a beautiful child John, and I cannot wait for you to meet her._

_All my love,_  
  
 _Ellie_

“Congratulations,” Robin exclaimed and clapped him on the back.

John just grinned in response.

He had a daughter.

[ **Part 12** ](http://jagnikjen.livejournal.com/42418.html)

~*~*~


	12. FIC: The Consequences of Attraction, Part 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tragedy strikes Queen Eleanor and she travels to England.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> none

**Word Count:** 1083  
 **Rating:** PG  
 **Spoilers:** A Thing or Two About Loyalty  
 **Warnings:** oc death, nothing graphic  
 **Notes:** none  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Robin Hood, Robin, Marian, et al. I have earned nothing from this endeavor but the joy that comes from the writing and the possibility of a nice comment or two.  
 **Summary:** Tragedy strikes Queen Eleanor and she travels to England.

~*~*~

**The Consequences of Attraction, Part 12**

Eleanor held Christina's lifeless body in her arms and fell to her knees. Sobs wracked her as she wept for the loss of her child, tears spilling onto Christina's peaceful face. Two months—that's all she'd had with her beautiful little daughter, her child of love.

Eleanor had never known such sorrow; her heart and her body ached with grief. Not even when her son imprisoned her had she felt so helpless. And not when she'd buried her other babies had she experienced such despair.

She wanted John. Needed him.

Even ten months later, she remembered the feel of John's arms around her. The feeling of safety and contentment and affection. And she longed for them again, longed to feel his strength and to find comfort as she grieved their loss. A loss he knew nothing about.

This was not something she could put in a letter. She had to go to England.

~*~

The trip from Poitiers to Nottinghamshire took three and a half weeks and Eleanor was never so glad to arrive anywhere. Her heart still hurt from Christina's death and she wanted nothing more than to collapse into John's arms and mourn their child together, but the activity of the trip had helped take her mind from dwelling on the loss and the sharp edges of her pain had dulled slightly.

The Barnsdale church was just as she remembered from the previous year. She welcomed the quiet sanctuary and the solace she found there. Returning to the small alter she took to her knees in prayer and mourning, taking comfort from the peace that surrounded her.

She'd sent Dennis and Edward into Sherwood Forest to scout it out make sure that it was free and clear of others besides Robin and his honorable band of outlaws.

They returned to the church with the all clear and helped her back onto her horse. She instructed them to go to the inn in York and then she set out along the Great North Road.

“Hold!” shouted a familiar voice before the figure stepped out from behind a large tree. Four others stepped out from behind their respective trees as well. She recognized but one face from her prior visit.

She smiled wanly at young Locksley, who looked as cheeky and handsome as ever.

“Majesty,” he exclaimed dropping to one knee and swiftly rising again. He glanced at his gang. “This is Queen Eleanor.”

The others immediately mimicked Robin's action.

“Where are your men?” he asked, glancing about.

The rest of the gang gathered loosely round Robin, except the one she wanted most to see. She noted the new faces and wondered about the missing ones. She did not ask, however. She would find out from John later. Right now, she just wanted John.

She made to dismount and Robin stepped forward to help her.

“Thank you,” she said, once on solid ground. “Not to be rude, but where is John?”

The others shared confused looks and probably wondered why on earth the queen was looking for Little John. Except for Much, whose mouth turned up in a fond smile. He no doubt assumed that she was here to rekindle her attraction. She was sure he didn't know it had gone far beyond that, but she guessed Robin knew about the babe; at least of its existence and that her presence had something to do with it. If John did not read, then there was only one whom he would have asked. And that one knew her well enough to recognize the front she put up.

Robin's expression remained neutral as he said, “He's finishing a delivery to Nettlestone.”

“And how much longer until then?” she asked. A wave of exhaustion washed over her and she wavered on her feet.

Robin was immediately by her side, taking hold her arm. “Majesty. Let me take you to an available cottage where you can rest after your long journey.”

Eleanor nodded. “Thank you.” He was an intuitive little bugger, and she loved him for it. Neither she nor Richard had a more loyal subject. If it was the last thing she did, she would ensure he regained all that he had lost and more.

“Tuck, intercept Little John and have him meet me at the empty cottage in Clun.   He'll know the one. Do not mention Her Majesty.”

The man called Tuck nodded and left.

“The rest of you go back to camp and carry on. I'll be home as soon as John arrives at the cottage.”

Much, a blonde woman and another man with impossibly blue eyes turned and disappeared back into the trees. And then it was just her and Robin.

“Come, Majesty, Clun is this way.” Robin waved his free arm in the direction opposite of which the others had gone. Still offering her his support, he grabbed the reins of her horse and led the way into the shadowy cool of the trees. He said nothing as they walked, and she thought she ought to offer pleasantries, but could not find it in herself to do so.

Robin didn't speak either, but the silence was a comfortable one, as if he knew the heaviness of her heart, and they proceeded at a sedate pace. Quite unlike her last trek through the forest. The memory brought a small smile to her face.

The cottage was one of the smaller ones, situated on the edge of the village, mostly out of view of the rest. It had two square windows, one on either side of the door. Inside, it was maybe a dozen paces square. A fire pit sat in one corner, a narrow table in another, and there was a low cot in the corner opposite the fire pit, piled with blankets.

Eleanor sank gratefully onto the wooden bench across from the door.

Robin knelt and lit the fire. “Those linens are clean, Majesty. Shall I make up the bed for you?”

She shook her head.

“I'll tie the horse round back near the stream and then I'll wait for John outside.”

“Thank you, Robin. You are a good man.”

Robin nodded and left.

Eleanor just sat and waited. She did not relish breaking the news. Reliving the guilt and the sorrow, but perhaps the sharing of her burden would ease it.

At the sound of deep voices outside, her heart began to hammer in her chest.

Then there was a knock and the door swung open.

John's large frame filled the doorway.

[ **Part 13** ](http://jagnikjen.livejournal.com/42586.html)

~*~*~


	13. FIC: The Consequences of Attraction, Part 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eleanor shares her grief with John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> none

**Word:** Count: 1050  
 **Rating:** PG  
 **Spoilers:** A Thing or Two About Loyalty  
 **Warnings:** none  
 **Notes:** none  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Robin Hood, Robin, Marian, et al. I have earned nothing from this endeavor but the joy that comes from the writing and the possibility of a nice comment or two.  
 **Summary:** Eleanor shares her grief with John.

~*~*~

**The Consequences of Attraction, Part 13**

Tears sprung to her eyes immediately and she was in his arms before he could step inside.

“John...” she said into his chest.

His arms were around her, solid and warm and real, holding her tightly.

“Ellie,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, and her heart rejoiced. _He remembered._

 

 

John approached the small cottage and saw Robin sitting on a log in the yard.

“Robin?” he asked. The whole thing made him nervous.

Robin stood. “John...there is someone here to see you.”

“Alice?” he asked, going light-headed. Who else would come looking for him? _Little Little John!_ His heart sank like a stone to his gut. Something must have happened. Oh, no....

Robin shook his head. “No. The queen.”

“The...” The queen? His breath left him in a rush. Dread replaced the relief he'd felt only a moment ago. John shook his head. What would she be doing here? “Why?”

“She did not say. But she looks...distressed.”

John saw the subdued look in Robin's eyes. _The babe._ It must be about their child. Something happened to their child. Sadness welled inside him and John's heart clenched for the queen, nay—for Ellie, _his_ Ellie—and what she must have gone through. He nodded and walked to the door.

“I'll send someone with a basket of food. We'll leave it outside the door,” Robin said as he left. “Take whatever time you need.”

John stepped into the doorway and scanned the room. Ellie sat on a bench with her eyes closed, looking every inch as beautiful as she had when last he'd seen her. But he could also see she looked exhausted and heartbroken.

Her eyes snapped open and she was in his arms before he could step inside the cottage.

Sliding her arms around his waist, she buried her face in his chest and sobbed. His arms went round her instinctively and he held her, resting his cheek on her head. She wore no crown and her hair flowed loose down her back. Memories washed over him, filling him with remembered happiness. But he pushed that aside in light of the reason for her reappearance in his life.

They stood wrapped together for several minutes until she finally pulled away and looked at him, the tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Our d-daughter is d-dead,” she said, choking on a sob.

“Oh, Ellie...” John's heart constricted for her pain and his own. He closed his eyes and let the thought take hold. _He had a daughter. A sweet baby girl..._

Opening his eyes, he slid his arm around Eleanor again and, taking a step inside the cottage, closed the door behind them.

“Come,” he said, moving them back toward the bench.

She nodded. They reached the bench and sat, facing each other at an angle, their knees touching.

He held one of her hands and looked into her eyes. “Tell me.”

Her body now trembled next to him and she swallowed. Tears continued to fill her eyes and spill down her cheeks.

John brushed them away with a gentle hand, but to no avail. “Hey, hey, now. This can wait till later, then, all right?” He pulled her into his arms and held her while she cried some more.

“Our d-daughter—” she said.

“Shh, now. It will keep. I am not going anywhere and neither are you.”

“I have longed for you, John,” she wept.

His heart flipped over. He had yearned for her as well. And now, because of some terrible twist of fate, she was here. Weeping and bereft and without their child.

John sat back against the wall with Eleanor tucked up under his arm, her head resting on his chest. He stroked her hair and rubbed her back and they just sat in the quiet of the late afternoon.

Cheerful bird song filtered in through the open windows and John saw Will arrive, carrying a basket of food. A moment later he heard the basket being set against the door.

Eventually, shadows filled the room as the sun sank and the fire burned low in the pit. He would have to tend it soon if he didn't want it to go out.

“Ellie,” he said, finally breaking the silence, “are you awake?”

She nodded against his chest and sniffed. “Yes.”

“Are you hungry?”

She sat up then, her face a bit puffy, but still regal and beautiful, and nodded. She wiped away the traces of her tears with the palms of her hands.

His heart beat hard in his chest. The woman he loved was here. Despite the enormous disparity in their places in the world. It was mad, considering they still had only known each other less than a sennight.

He leaned over and kissed her gently and stood. He threw several small branches on the fire and it leapt back to life. Fetching the basket from outside, he carried it to the small work table and emptied it. There were several loaves of bread, a couple small wheels of cheese, a half dozen apples, and a pot of stew. “Ah, Much...” he muttered gratefully.

John also pulled out a pair of wine skins. He unstopped each in turn and sniffed. One must be water as he smelled nothing. The other contained ale.

“Much sent stew or we can eat simple,” he said as she joined him at the table.

“Simple sounds lovely.”

“Water or ale?”

“Ale, please,” she said.

He passed her the wine skin and then reached for the tankards on the hanging shelves above the table. But she already had the spigot to her lips and was drinking deeply. John raised a brow. “Easy, girl.”

She smiled and a spark of the gaiety he remembered from last year appeared in her eyes.

They returned to the bench and ate, Eleanor asking after Robin and the identities of the new members of the gang.

John told her about their trip to the Holy Land and the events that had transpired there. The attempt on the king's life. Robin's vows in the desert. The death of Vaizey. Gisborne's ascension to the office of sheriff.

“So Robin has his woman living in the forest with him?”

“Aye.”

“The blonde one I saw when I came looking for you?”

[ **Part 14** ](http://jagnikjen.livejournal.com/43580.html)

~*~*~


	14. FIC: The Consequences of Attraction, Part 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eleanor breaks the news to John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> none

**Word Count:** 1071  
 **Rating:** PG  
 **Spoilers:** Treasure of the Nation  
 **Warnings:** none  
 **Notes:** none  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Robin Hood, Robin, Marian, et al. I have earned nothing from this endeavor but the joy that comes from the writing and the possibility of a nice comment or two.  
 **Summary:** Eleanor breaks the news to John.

~*~*~

**The Consequences of Attraction, Part 14**

 

John choked on his bread. “What— _no_. That's Kate; a village girl from Locksley. Robin married Marian Fitzwalter, the former sheriff's daughter.”

Her brows arched high over her brown eyes. “That must make for some interesting goings on in the camp. I saw the way that girl was looking at Robin.”

“What?”

Eleanor nodded. “Oh, yes. She's quite smitten.”

“Oh, dear,” said John in a low voice. Just what they didn't need—a love-struck maid. Why couldn't she have taken a liking to Much or Allan?

“If I know Robin, if he's married, he's not given this young woman a second glance or even a wrong word. He's a man of great passion and loyalty.”

John harrumphed. “Some days, it's a little more than I can take when he and Marian get all lovey-dovey. I usually end up taking a walk. I do a _lot_ of walking these days.” Although, he didn't begrudge Robin and Marian their happiness, it reminded him of the early days of his marriage with Alice. The lingering glances, the little touches, the sweet kisses. The memories were still bittersweet, but he would always love her.

 “I thought you looked a bit slimmer,” Ellie said with a twinkle in her eye and a poke to his belly. Lifting a hand to his cheek, she whispered, “Oh, Big Bear...how I have missed you.”

He took her in his arms again. He was amazed that he could love two women so much. “And I, you, Ellie. I have thought of you and our child every day.” After a few moments, John said, “So, we had a daughter. Tell me about Christina.” He didn't know if she was up for talking about it, yet, but figured he'd give her a chance now that she'd cried some.

Eleanor took a deep breath, nodded and picked up from where she'd left off earlier. “She was born February 18th, a little early and, of course, a wee bit small. But perfect. She had all her fingers, all her toes, a head of soft, light brown hair and beautiful brown eyes, like yours.” She looked up at him with shining shimmering eyes.

“They could have been like yours,” he said.

She smiled and shook her head. “No, they were yours.”

Now John smiled, his heart swelling in delight. How about that? A little girl with his eyes. The thought pleased him immensely. And his mother would have been thrilled with a namesake. She'd birthed three strapping boys and always longed for a daughter.

They sat in silence for a while longer, leaning against each other and holding hands. It was dark outside now and the cool evening air drifted in the windows. The fire danced and crackled cheerfully in the pit, throwing its golden orange light along the walls.

 

“Her birth was a fast one...” Ellie said finally. “I woke up to birth pains and an hour or so later, she was born.”

“I'm glad it was quick.”

“My maids had lined up a wet nurse, but I chose to feed her myself.”

John heard the pain in Ellie's voice and looked down at her, surprised. Tears welled in her eyes again.

“I think...I think it was my fault,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut and jamming a fist to her mouth.

“What? Ellie, _no_ ,” John exclaimed.

Her shoulders shook as she broke down again.

He did not like the crying. Wrapping his arms around her again, he asked, “Why do you say it was your fault?”

It took her a few moments to calm enough to speak. “I wanted to care for our baby myself. I didn't want to pass her off to the wet nurse and the nurse maids. She was _your_ baby.”

“Shh, shh... It's all right. It's going to be all right.”

“Maybe my milk was bad, maybe it was too old. If only I'd let the wet—”

“No!” John said fiercely, releasing her and jumping to his feet.

She looked at him, startled into silence, her eyes wide and watery.

“I refuse to believe that. It is your job as a mother, to care for your child. I do not believe that someone else's milk would have been better for our child. Or anyone else's care, for that matter. Do you hear me? You will not blame yourself. If anyone's to blame it's me—peasant stock with your noble blood.”

“No, John. If anything, it's your peasant stock that kept her alive as long as she was. Good strong stock.”

John hung his head and shook it. Softly, he said, “Listen to us—arguing over whose fault it is or isn't that our baby died.” He met her gaze. “It's no one's fault, Ellie. It happens often enough. Sometimes, it's just not meant to be. We had a little angel for a short time, and now she'll be an angel forever.”

Ellie stood and twined her hands behind John's neck. She lifted herself on tip toes and gave him a small kiss. “I like that thought, John, thank you.”

He nodded. “It is getting late. We should sleep.”

“I'll make the bed,” said Ellie.

“No,” said John.

“Why not? I know how to make a bed.”

“I'm sure you do, but you're the qu—”

“Don't even start that. When we are together, when we are alone. I am just an ordinary woman. Remember?” She pinned him with her gaze.

“Yes... _woman_ ,” he growled.

She smiled. “Good. Now, you ready the fire and _I'll_ make the bed.”

She kissed him again and within a few minutes, they were snuggled up together.

“I dreamt of this many many times since last year,” she said. “It's all I've wanted since...”

“Since?”

“Since...”

He tightened his hold on her. “I'm sorry I wasn't there when you needed me.”

“I had planned on bringing her here to you when she was just a bit older. You had no way of knowing.” She rubbed his hand splayed across her belly. “But you and I are together now. And that is all that's important. I should like to sleep now.”

“Of course.” He kissed the back of her head. “Good night...”

With a deep sigh, he felt her relax and, not long after, her soft snores reached his ears.

“I love you, Ellie,” he whispered and let out his own deep breath. A few minutes later, he, too, drifted off to sleep.

**[Part 15](http://jagnikjen.livejournal.com/43874.html) **

~*~*~


	15. FIC: The Consequences of Attraction, Part 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellie makes a huge decision that changes her life—and John's—forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> none

**Word Count:** 960  
 **Rating:** G  
 **Spoilers:** Treasure of the Nation  
 **Warnings:** none  
 **Notes:** none  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Robin Hood, Robin, Marian, et al. I have earned nothing from this endeavor but the joy that comes from the writing and the possibility of a nice comment or two.  
 **Summary:** Ellie makes a huge decision that changes her life—and John's—forever

~*~*~

**The Consequences of Attraction, Part 15**

 

The following morning John awoke to sunshine slanting across his face and the smell of something roasting. Fish. A sight he didn't normally see and a scent he didn't usually smell.

He sat up and saw Ellie, her hair bound in a head scarf, tearing in half one of the loaves of bread. She tended the fish, skewered and hanging over the flames.

He jumped from the cot and pulled his leggings on as he crossed the room. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Don't raise your voice to me. I am simply cooking breakfast. Women all over the world do it.”

“You are not just any woman.”

“Listen to me. I am now and forever like any other woman.”

“What are you saying?” He shook his head in question.

“I've been up for a while.  Since sunrise actually. And I've been thinking.”

John raised a brow and waited for her to continue. He had a sneaking suspicion he knew what she was going to say.

“I've decided to stay here in England. For good. I have no reason to return to France. I will send a letter to Richard via Dennis so I know it shall remain confidential. Eventually it will be announced that I succumbed to my mysterious illness and am dead. And I shall live out my days here in Nottinghamshire with you.” She ended with her hands on her hips, looking quite pleased at the prospect.

Surprise, shock rushed through him. “But...you're the queen. You cannot just disappear, _for good_.”

She handed him a chunk of bread and a skewered fish, a frown forming on her face. “But nothing. I can and I will. I have brought some money and more shall be delivered, so I will be able to pay my taxes. And then I shall take up some menial task to keep myself busy during the day.”

“You'll do no such thing.” She was mad.

She speared him with a look, pulling herself to her full height and stature. “Are you telling me what I can or cannot do? I am—”

“Stop.” He held up a hand. “You cannot be an ordinary woman one minute and the queen the next. If you're going to be a peasant woman, then...” He shrugged.

“I was going to say _my own woman_ , thank you very much.”

“Sorry.” John felt sheepish.

“And just because I am no longer a queen doesn't mean I’m going to turn into a meek mild-mannered _lady_. Agreed?”

“I haven't agreed to anything.”

Her mouth turned down at the edges again. “Even so. I don't need your permission.”

“I know you don’t. It's not that I don't want you here.” He shook his head, a small grin forming. “I do, but first of all you're daft for leaving all you have behind and second it's not safe.”

“What am I leaving behind, John? A large drafty castle with too many memories for peace or comfort and where I am constantly surrounded by dozens of people. People I don't give a fig about. People who twitter and gossip and chatter all the time and live off my—”

“Largesse?”

Ellie grinned. “Precisely.” She spread her arms wide. “Here I can weave baskets—I can do that, you know. I can have a garden. I've always wanted to tend one myself, get my hands dirty, watch things grow. I can take a walk whenever and wherever I please. I've had riches and servants and luxuries, but they're not worth much if you don't have someone to love and who loves you in return.” She met his gaze and held it.

John opened his mouth to speak, but words failed him. She loved him? Did she really mean that?

“Yes, John. I know what you're thinking. Yes, I love you. Yes, I mean it. That night in the inn in Derby I asked you to be my true friend. The one who would always tell me the real truth no matter what.”

John nodded.

“And you've always done that.”

He shook his head slowly. “No...I...there was one thing I never told you.”

Ellie frowned.

“Last year, in France, when I came to see you... and you wanted me to stay... I never told you how I felt about you. That I loved you, even then. I was convinced that you would not, could not love a—”

“A big ugly dirty smelly oaf?” she whispered.

He nodded.

“I could and I do. So very much.”

He enveloped her in a large hug.

“So I am staying and living out my days as a peasant wife?”

“If that is really what you want to do. Who am I to say no to the qu—”

She pulled back and looked at him, her brow arched.

“The queen of my heart?” he finished with a grin, but sobered almost immediately. “Will you marry me, Ellie?”

Tears sprung to her eyes. “Oh, yes, John. _Yes_.” She laughed. She clasped her right hand in John's right hand and did the same with their lefts, forming an X. “I, Eleanor, take you, John, to be my lawfully wedded husband, from now until eternity.”

John was taken aback. “Here? Now? Like this?”

With a single nod, she said, “Here. Now. Like this. Whose business is it but ours?”

“But you're the que—”

“Not anymore.”

“Are you certain?” He didn’t want to her to have any regrets.

“I've never been more certain of anything in my life.”

John considered the situation for several moments. He finally nodded. “All right, then. I, John, take you, Eleanor, to be my lawfully wedded wife, from now until eternity.”

“You may kiss your bride.” She waggled her brows.

And he did.

**~ Fin ~**

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End file.
